Touch

my breath flees in sweetness,
sizzles in fingertips
leaves my chest arched high and wanting.
it pools, puffs after you, dear.
sweet cloud of desire
sweet aura of heated flesh.

the moment before touching
is more poignant than the touch
the last instant, inevitability
when molecules of skin
leap the last gap of scalded air
and we blend,
we see the universe there
in one sacred centimeter.

all true music incorporates silence.
each rest, each beat
essential as the purest note.
so a Touch is made up,
a vast curving rainbow
a breath, a lessened space, a savoring,
a longing for another
even before it ends.